


Broken Promise

by Flameysaur



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fenris joins Hawke at the Inquisition, Here Lies the Abyss AU, Here Lies the Abyss Spoilers, The Fade, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6506146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flameysaur/pseuds/Flameysaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris follows Hawke to Skyhold after making one promise: he will not die for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fawx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fawx/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift to the very talented Fawx. It is inspired by the art used with the fic. This art is NOT by me, but by her. Thanks for letting me use it.

_(Oh, I like you. You’re so very_ **_afraid_** _.)_

Fenris remembered the Fade. He’d walked in it once, back in Kirkwall. Hawke had taken him in to save an idiot mage who couldn’t see the difference between a demon and a friend.

Hawke saw through them all. She’d quiz them for answers, dance around their deals, then smile as she struck them down.

She hadn’t even hesitated to attack him, when he, idiot, couldn’t ignore the whisper of a demon.

Fenris didn’t like the Fade. He didn’t like mages. He didn’t like Frostback Mountains. He certainly didn’t like this new Inquisition, which took Varric from Kirkwall in chains like it was a criminal to know and love Hawke.

But he walked to all of them, right after Hawke.

_(Then you ran away from her. You even after you promised.)_

Varric’s letter arrived on a sunny bright day. The sun glinted through the cracked, dusty window of the abandoned cabin that was their home for the last three weeks. Fenris worked outside the door, axe heavy in his hands. He chopped firewood with a steady rhythm that relaxed him. Just the thud of his axe and the burn of his muscle.

There was a hole in the sky and somehow the damn dwarf got involved. When a village boy came running up, creamy envelope flashing under the sun in his hand, Fenris wasn’t surprised.

“I heard there was a witch up here,” the boy whispered as Fenris fished for a coin in his pouch. “Hey, mister, what’s up with your arms?”

Fenris tossed the boy two silvers and took the letter.

“I’m cursed by a witch.”

The boy’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates then he scampered off like a frightened halla. The cabin door opened with a creak and Hawke’s chuckle.

“That wasn’t very nice.” Hawke leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. Fenris lips twitched but he otherwise showed no pleasure at how pretty she looked there; lips half curved, sunlight dancing with her eyes. He wanted to kiss her and go back into the cabin. He wanted to burn the letter and the trouble it surely represented.

“I wish Varric would let his letters sit in town. You go enough. We don’t need the attention.” He offered her the envelope.

Hawke laughed again, but with a forced strain, and snatched it from his hand.

“He does, mostly. Besides, if the Chantry hasn’t been able to trace his letters now, they aren’t going to start soon.” Hawke twisted the edge of the letter between two fingers then ripped the top off. “This must be important.”

Of course it was important. Varric would never risked Hawke over something minor. The light died in her eyes, and word by word, her shoulders tensed. When she handed it to him mutely, Fenris put down his axe and squared himself for war.

“Who’s back?” He asked when he read what he could of the letter. Hawke took it then, with a quick spell, burned it.

“Corypheus.” She glared down at the ashes. “I can’t even _kill_ things anymore.”

“Hawke…”

She turned without a word, going back inside. She started to pack, only one bag. Fenris refused.

The fight last all night, bitter and loud. The abandoned cabin lost two windows and they destroyed the bed, but in the debris, Hawke wrapped an arm around his chest and held on tight.

“You have to promise me.”

“Anything, Hawke.”

“Promise you won’t die for me.”

_(And yet you ran. No trust for the grand Inquisitor? So sure your little bird wouldn’t join you in the flight home?)_

Fenris met the Inquisitor’s Tevinter mage at the bar. He’d ducked inside, hood up, cloak over his arms when Hawke went to meet Varric and the Inquisitor. He had no need to be up in the ramparts with the important people he didn’t know. The bar was easier.

He gathered his drink from the bar and found a dark corner to hide away in. Some people gave him stares, but there were others like him. Even for a castle in the middle of a nowhere mountain, there were plenty of strangers milling about. Refugees and new recruits and mercenaries. Fenris was just another one.

“They let a _magister_ in?” A rough voiced worker sneered.

A pampered voice let out an elegant sigh.

“For the last time, I’m a mage, from Tevinter but that doesn’t make me a magister.”

Fenris shoulders tensed. He remembered that voice. It was just one of dozens. The voices that pecked and clucked in the endless decadent parties Danarius loved.

“I’m of the Altus. I do wish the southerners would learn the difference.”

“Of course.” Rage loosened his tongue. The inky arrogance. The simpering speech. The blinding indifference to everything but the insignificant. “Wouldn’t want to get the words wrong.”

“Am I bothering you, friend?” The man turned. He was only an inch taller than Fenris, despite his precious Tevinter breeding. Classically handsome, with dusty skin, dark flashing eyes and carefully groomed hair. Fenris had seen tens of men who looked the exact same in Tevinter and the rage mated with the rolling stress to grow even stronger.

“I am not your friend.”

“Then there is no reason for us to spar, is there?” He sneered. With casual ease, he pulled out some coins from a purse and dropped them on the table. “There. Next drink is on me.”

“I don’t need your money, _mage_.” He grabbed the coins, the cloak falling back from his arm. The Tevinter man paused. His eyes snapped at once to Fenris’ face. With magister arrogance, he reached over and pushed back the hood of Fenris’ cloak. Firelight catched and gleamed on his white hair.

“I...know...you…” The words escaped in a confused fog. Fenris heard Aveline’s words from so long ago echo in his head again.

_Fenris, you are known._

His shoulders tensed. He hunched in the chair. He’d given his sword up to the guards, under Hawke’s encouragement, but the lyrium warmed under his skin.

“There a problem here?” A Qunari ambled up. His horns nearly scraped the ceiling and he stood with deceptive openness. ‘Go ahead and attack,’ his stance said, ‘I won’t stop you.’

“No business of yours, spy.” Fenris spat. The Qunari blinked his one eye then very carefully rested a hand on the Tevinter, allying himself with his species’ mortal enemy. Fenris crouched lower and tension crackled between the three. From the corner of Fenris’ eye, he could see a young man standing on a chair and watching.

Then the door open and Hawke walked in.

“Fenris?” She hurried to his side, her hand touching his shoulder just like the Qunari’s touched the Tevinter. “What’s going on here?”

“Fenris.” The Tevinter breathed again. “That’s your name. Did you know your master’s death caused all sorts of waves? I believe a few people won a fortune betting on your fate.” He laughed, like second worst moment of Fenris’ life was amusing gossip.

“Are people betting on yours?” Hawke smiled when she asked. It couldn’t a barb. The Tevinter gave her a long look then shrugged it away with an elegant roll of his shoulders.

“Probably.”

“Then I hope you get a say in the end result. Some people are just swept along for the ride.” Hawke offered her hand. “Hawke. Pleasure to meet you. Woof, I love your horns.”

The tension in Fenris shoulders drained as Hawke turned to the Qunari and peppered him with questions. She got the Tevinter and “Bull” to laugh within a minute and Fenris settled back in his seat. Everything was okay. Hawke arrived.

( _You’re scared of what you’d be without her. How cute. She’ll easily live without_ **_you_** _.)_

Fenris’ markings itched the night before Adamant. Hawke sat behind him, scratching his back and sides and hair and anywhere she could reach. Varric sat across the fire, carefully nursing a Marcher liquor. He wanted to sleep, not be hung over.

“This happen before, elf?”

“No.” He scraped at his skin.

“There’s something _in_ there.” Hawke nodded to the fortress. Grey Wardens walked the ramparts, but didn’t think an army could be perched just over the hill. Who’d invade the Grey Wardens? “Something big, I don’t like it.”

“How do you know?” The Inquisitor flopped down at the party. She was an elf with a stocky body and red hair shorn short on one side. Hawke gave her a long look, then smiled her outsider smile.

“I hear demons sometimes. When the Veil is thin.”

The Inquisitor whistled, like it was an impressive parlor trick and not the most terrifying thing Fenris had heard. Mages fell when demons talked to them. But Hawke had shrugged it off.

“What do you hear now?”

“Something big.” Hawke’s nails scraped down Fenris back, making him shudder. “Something amused. It knows we’re here.”

The Inquisitor grinned, wild and sharp.

“I kill demons.” She stood up, not much taller than Varric when standing. Her eyes dropped down to Fenris, and she tilted her head. “I read about you.”

“Good for you.” Fenris grunted. Varric chuckled across the fire. Fenris sent him a look and liked to think the dwarf looked nervous. He didn’t. Varric had never been afraid of him, but Fenris liked to pretend.

“You two been through a lot together.”

Hawke’s hands slowed on Fenris back. He reached around and snatched one. He pulled the fingers to his lips and looked back. The smile that curled his lips was too natural to stop.

“Not enough.”

She waited six years for him. He needed at least double that to make it worthwhile. She needed more. She needed everything.

Hawke smiled down at him and leaned in. It was an awkward kiss, him leaning back, her over his shoulder. But his lyrium stopped itching.

( _Now she’s alone. Where was that family you were going to give her? Do you remember the smell of her hair? The taste of her shoulder? You’ll never experience it again._ )

Possessed Wardens were as hard to kill as darkspawn. They drove themselves into his blade and still fought on. Fenris dodged around blades and arrows, ripping out hearts and hacking off limbs. He kept his eyes on Hawke, who fought with fire and force to protect the pale faced soldiers fighting to save the world. Fenris wondered if she saw her brother in the boys of the group. So desperate to matter he ran to the end of the world then the Deep Roads just to be someone.

The Inquisitor was vicious in battle. She jumped from foe to foe, slicing and dicing. It gave the Wardens with minds left in their heads pause. Not pause enough to stop themselves from allying with a damn Tevinter magister.

Then a dragon showed up.

Fenris couldn’t resist the grunt, as Grey Wardens scattered and the Warden Commander looked with dawning horror.

The beast breathed what looked like hot, red lyrium and Fenris dove for Hawke. Her arms wrapped around him, protecting him even as he tried to protect her. When the flame, if you could call it that, passed molten over head, he grunted in her ear.

“Of course the _magister_ brought a dragon.”

Above them, the Tevinter mage laughed with an almost insane bent.

“You act surprised. When has our homeland ever chosen intelligence over power?” He offered a hand down but Fenris rolled away, rising on his own. Hawke took the offered hand and nearly pulled the man down trying to get up. No weak limbed mage, his Hawke.

“Hawke is my homeland.” Fenris grumbled. Hawke was laughing, already chasing off after the beast, unlistening or unwilling to show her reaction.

“A _dragon_. Yes. I haven’t killed one of those since I got this shirt.”

The Tevinter raised one immaculate eyebrow.

“Your homeland just ran away to kill a dragon.”

“Worry about demons, mage.” Fenris loped ahead, lyrium burning in his skin.

But it wasn’t easy. It was never easy. The Warden Commander with more rage than sense took on the dragon by herself. Fenris flinched when the woman was snatched up in the jaws and shook like a doll. Beside him, Hawke was still as the grave and his lyrium buzzed with her magic. It shouldn’t been a shock that she ran towards the beast. Whenever had Hawke seen death and not ran straight for it?

When would Fenris ever not follow?

When they fell, he wasn’t afraid. She reached for him. He held her. The fall was dizing and sharp, with wind physical slaps against his skin. If he died, like this, with her, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

It turned out the worst thing in the world would rather happen.

They were in the Fade. Physically in the Fade.

Fenris vomited.

( _I sensed you first, you know. All that lyrium draped over you, like a tasty treat. And so afraid. I see all your fears._ )

The Tevinter mage was afraid too. Fenris was shocked at that. Oh, the man smirked and snarked. He reminisced fondly of his Harrowing. But Fenris wasn’t so free an elf he couldn’t still read a magister’s mood. The man, Dorian, clutched his staff and shrugged back his shoulders. He smiled brightly at the Inquisitor, not unlike how Hawke would smile at Varric when things went tits up and she didn’t want him to worry.

“No Tevinter mage should be here, not physically. Not again.” Dorian muttered as they walked through muck that didn’t dirty them.

“How are you feeling, Fenris?” Hawke asked, walking at his side. Varric walked all but glued to her side. If anyone belonged in the Fade less than Dorian, it was Varric.

“My skin hurts.” The air pressed against the lyrium like a solid force, and walking through the water made the lyrium in his legs buzz. His stomach rolled at the air he pulled into his lungs, putrid and thick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m a mage.” Hawke looked forward. “Some would say this is where I belong.”

Not Fenris. He reached for her, taking her hand and felt better for it. She was warm, and solid, and real, and his. She squeezed back just as Danarius whispered in Fenris’ ear.

“Happy little slave. Always needed a mage to control you.”

Fenris swung around. No one stood there. Everyone stopped however. The Inquisitor’s eyes darted this way and that. Hawke and Dorian exchanged a look. Varric looked a little pale. Stroud and Bull drew their weapons.

“Ah, the grand Inquisition.” Now the voice boomed overhead, deeper and sounding like Corypheus. Except...under that voice, threading along with the words, was Danarius, cooing into Fenris’ ear like he was back under the hot Tevinter sun, or sharing a cramped tent. Danarius loved to lean in close, to talk right into Fenris ear, like a lover. Hawke used to do the same thing, but even when Fenris shock back into the memories he didn’t want, he knew it was different. Hawke leaned in with a smile, eager to share secrets, to make Fenris part of herself, part of her world. Danarius wanted ownership, to claim, steal, yet another intimacy.

Fenris heart beat hard in his chest as he held his sword. His lyrium burned.

( _You tell yourself it’s different, but is it? She’s just like him, mage and proud, eager to possess you, eager to touch you. You remember the first time. How tightly she clung. She wants to do it again. Didn’t you just grab another collar?)_

They fought the Nightmare. It was a bitter battle. Every time Fenris fell, he feared it’d be the last. He made Hawke a promise. As long as she lived, so must he. But his soul remained stubbornly in his body and he fought twice as hard when he rose.

He ignored the spider that still sat perched and watching above them. He ignored Danarius voice still cooing in his ear. He ignored that Stroud went down and had yet to come back up. He focused on fighting and on Hawke. With the Nightmare in his ear, it was disgustingly easy to fall back on his slave habits. He went silent, none of the jeers and jabs Hawke adored. He’d ignore blows meant for the Inquisitor or Bull or Dorian, to protect Hawke. The Qunari noticed, Dorian probably noticed but Fenris wasn’t here to save the world. He wanted to protect his home.

When the fear demon fell, when the spider finally closed his eyes, when the voice went blessedly silent, Fenris nearly felt relief.

“Come on!” Bull yelled. He ran for the rift, Dorian in hot pursuit. The Inquisitor loped along after, bare Dalish feet flying over the water. Varric ran, glancing over his shoulder for Hawke. But Hawke hesitated. She stopped by Stroud’s side, helping the Warden up.

“We haven’t had our fight yet.” Hawke grinned at him and Fenris ducked on the man’s other side. Between the two of them, Stroud began to move.

“Hawke!” Varric pointed beyond them and Fenris _felt_ the spider begin to move.

“Did you think you could escape me, little wolf?”

“Leave me.” Stroud grumbled, but Hawke clung on tighter.

“I’m not abandoning anyone again.”

Fenris clung tight, trying to will the fallen warrior faster. The Inquisitor pushed Varric through the rift then came running back. The spider dropped one giant leg in front of the rift and Fenris heard Danarius low, cool chuckle.

“Now I have you, and your latest master. What are you going to do now?”

“Someone needs to distract it. I’ll stay.” Hawke yelled, already turning.

“No.” Stroud began to argue. He pulled himself to shaky feet, too late to be any help. Too late to let himself slip behind. Hawke fought with him, with the Inquisitor. She was bound and determined to stay. Danarius cooed in Fenris ear.

He didn’t even say good bye. He slipped off, already running. He drew his sword just as he heard Hawke scream.

“Fenris!”

He promised Hawke.

He broke his promise.

( _And now you’re mine. I’m in you, Fenris. In your lyrium, in your skin, in your mind. That Pride demon didn’t get near as deep as I will. You’re scared, Fenris, so scared. I see all your fear. I see your pain, your tears. I see you, Leto. I see you, little wolf. I own you, Fenris.)_

“Not. Today.” Hawke’s voice ripped through Fenris’ dreams. Achingly real in this unstable Fade. The silverite blade of her staff ripped through the dark, glinting on a half remembered sun. It missed Fenris by centimeters. He wouldn’t have cared if it gorged him open. Hawke’s pale hand ripped more of a black, skin-like bag. “Not while I’m here.”

Her smile was savage, her eyes raged. She offered her hand however and Fenris took it.

“No one will ever own you.” She dripped in black blood and bits Fenris didn’t want to acknowledge. She leaned in and kissed him with a fever that didn’t belong. Fenris returned with teeth and claws. Danarius voice faded in his ear.

“Just. A. New. Master.” It died, final words sliding off Fenris like the blood from Hawke’s kiss.

“What happened?” He asked.

“What _happened_ is you tired to break your promise. The Inquisitor closed the rift.” Hawke jerked her head to the green rip that no longer dominated the air. “We’re trapped in the Fade, in an area that just lost it’s head bitch in charge, so I’m going to assume will be swarmed by demons. We have no way out. No food. No water beyond this muck.” She kicked the water at their feet. “And we’re probably going to die.”

“You, Hawke? Perish the thought.”

Her smile did belong in the Fade; savage, mean and what Fenris wanted to see every night.

“Let's find another rift. Come on.” They cleaned themselves using the possibly real water of the Fade. Fenris did not look behind him to see the corpse of the Nightmare. He knew it was dead. He didn't have to see it. Once clean, he took Hawke's hand. She leaned on her staff and squeezed his hold.

Together, Fenris and Hawke walked deeper into the Fade.

They weren’t afraid.


End file.
